


Playing Games

by malignance (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/malignance
Summary: Being a smart girl doesn't mean you're an undesirable girl. Lavender learns this the hard way.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger/George Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Oliver Wood, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 452





	Playing Games

**Author's Note:**

> lets pretend for the sake of this fic that everybody's a lot closer in age skldjg

Hermione Granger is smart, that is something no one can dispute.

"She's smart, yes," Lavender admits, though looking very much so like she wishes that was untrue, "but that's _all._ She's not terribly pretty, is she? Boys aren't going to appreciate a girl who's just got her head stuffed in a book."

Hermione's inclined to agree, somewhat. Boys most certainly would not appreciate a girl who's just got her head stuffed in a book.

But that didn't mean they wouldn't appreciate a smart girl. And she was one _very_ smart girl.

*

Oliver is hunched over in the library, brows furrowed. A rare occurrence, Hermione knows.

She watches, amused, as he scribbles what she assumes to be quidditch plays, if the animated drawing of a quaffle was anything to go by.

The way to a boy's heart is not always as simple as one would think (though getting into his pants was never a difficult puzzle to solve). For Oliver though, Hermione thought it pretty clear that it was quidditch.

So she sits across from him, and smiles when he raises his head to look up at her.

"Need some help?" She asks, innocent and curious.

He scoffs, clearly thinking the girl who would normally rather read in the quidditch stands than actually watch the quidditch would know nothing useful to him. "No offense, lass, but I'm not sure you can help much here."

Hermione rolls her eyes, but doesn't push any further, choosing to begin to work on some of her homework instead.

There's a minute or two of silence, before Oliver sighs, and pushes his parchment over to her side of the table with a frown.

"Actually, if you wouldn't mind taking a look at it, maybe a second opinion might help."

Hermione smirks a little, looking over his notes (and doodles) with a raised eyebrow. She can see what he'd been trying to go for, and sees too where he seems to come up short. 

She picks up her own quill and makes a few careful, quick adjustments, and then pushes the parchment back over to him.

She doesn't miss the shock that passes over his features as he analyses her additions, and feels a brief burst of pride when he lights up.

"This is brilliant!" He exclaims, a little louder than proper for a library. "Granger, you've saved me!"

She laughs, that dainty way she knows contrasts well to his strength and enthusiasm, and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Ten minutes of praise and idle chatter later, Oliver's eyes start drifting lower than strictly necessary, lingering at the corner of Hermione's mouth when she speaks. 

She says a few more words (words she's sure fly completely over his head), but it doesn't take long before she's pulling him into a secluded area, behind shelves she knows no one ever bothers searching through, and lets him kiss her until she's breathless.

*

Cedric is an entirely different issue.

She gets the distinct feeling they're in entirely different leagues. He is of the pretty, charming, popular boy league, and she is of the quiet, bookworm, borderline invisible girl league. 

Those rarely overlap, she realises.

But this is still a challenge she cannot back down from. It wouldn't be any fun if they'd all come to her served atop a silver platter after all.

(She ignores Viktor in the mean time. She hears him in the library, feels his gaze on her when he thinks she's distracted, she knows he's already sold).

She passes Cho a note when they walk past each other, all that's scrawled on the sliver of parchment is the word 'Dragons'. She tells Cho to pass it along to Cedric, said it was important, and then left.

She isn't at all surprised when Cedric corners her later after dinner, closing in on her with that boyish smile of his.

"Dragons, Granger?"

She wrinkles her nose, pretends she doesn't like how he has effectively pressed her against the wall.

"Haven't figured it out yet, Diggory? Shame. I thought you were smarter than that."

He laughs, and part of her feels victorious already.

"No, I did, and I appreciate the warning. Admittedly, it took me a while to realise what _dragons_ was pertaining to exactly. You couldn't have just laid it all out for me?"

She huffs, playing the part of someone very much _not_ affected by him at all. 

"Can't make things too easy for you now, can I?"

He grins, clearly amused, surprised with her resistance to the behaviour that usually has girls swooning. 

Oddly, she doesn't quite mind his ego, his confidence. She's aware if she'd seen it in any other boy she might be repelled, but Cedric had a way of carrying himself that made his confidence and sometimes arrogance much more enticing than it would be on anyone else.

"I suppose you're not hoping I snag the champion title then?"

She steps forward slightly, in his space now, and smiles. "You know where my loyalties lie."

He tenses a bit, and it doesn't escape her notice. "Why help me then? Why warn me?"

She shrugs, stepping back. 

His shoulders drop at the renewed distance. She fights to keep the grin off her face.

"I might be rooting for Harry, but I still want this to be fair."

He's smiling still, but she can see the confusion there too, like he isn't quite sure what to make of her.

"Well, in honour of fairness, I suppose I owe you something in compensation for this information."

There's an implication in his tone, and she knows she's won this one.

She licks her lips, doesn't bother to check to see if he's hanging on that movement, and shrugs again. "I suppose that _would_ be fair. Have any suggestions on what that would be?"

His mouth stretches into a smile, because this is finally falling into familiar territory, this flirting, this back and forth. 

He says, "I'm sure I can think of something." and then dips his head down to brush his lips against hers. 

(They don't separate until a prefect catches them together ten minutes later).

*

The summer Hermione spends in the Burrow is a summer spent further challenging her new hobby (if picking up boys left and right could be considered a hobby).

She sets her sights on George, so she spends the entire time in the Burrow talking to Fred, touching him, smiling at him. 

They play a long game of cat and mouse. Fred flirts, as usual, and sometimes Hermione will flirt back, catching both him and his twin by surprise. 

It's all too easy, the teasing and the flirting and the chase. George is left standing to the side amidst it all, with this growing sense of unease.

She smiles a little to herself seeing him sulk over it, and acts surprised when he ambushes her one night, eyebrows drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You know, I think you're making a big mistake here, Hermione." He whispers.

She doesn't understand the need for the silence, but plays along.

"What are you talking about, George?"

He huffs. She feels like laughing.

"I see that you're vying for Freddie's affections, but I assure you, you're overlooking a perfectly perfect twin right here. I happen to be the handsomer of the two, incase you haven't noticed. The better twin, you could say."

His tone suggests he's joking, but his face is twisted as if he's frustrated. It's a contradiction, and Hermione's not sure if he realises it or not.

She can't help it, she laughs.

He looks shocked for a moment, before he seems to catch on.

"The best twin? Really? Care to prove it?"

She grins at him, challenging, and he seems to falter for a moment, wondering if she'd heard the suggestion lying heavy under those words.

He decides it doesn't matter much, before pulling her to his chest and smashing his lips onto hers.

(Later, when they're locked in his and Fred's shared room, he lifts his mouth from where they'd been pressed against her neck long enough to say "Never thought I'd see the day... Duped by our very own bookworm... I must say I'm impressed." before diving back in).

*

Harry and Ron prove more difficult than Hermione would've expected.

If not for the fact that they knew each other so well, but the fact that they rarely spent any time without each other.

Harry glances at Ginny occasionally when he thinks no one's looking (but Hermione's never _not_ looking, so it doesn't take her long to figure it out). He keeps the secret to himself for a good couple of weeks, but eventually he's dragging Hermione away into an empty classroom and confessing his not so secret crush under his breath.

She smiles, because she already knew, and places a hand on his arm.

"Are you going to tell her?"

Harry deflates, shaking his head. "Merlin, no. She's Ron's sister, that would be... weird, right?"

"It might be a bit strange, at first, but I'm sure Ron will get over it in time. Is that really all you're worried about?"

Hermione already knows the answer to her question, but asks it anyway.

Harry groans in response. 

"Well- I mean- She's a lot more experienced than I am. I've only ever kissed one girl, and it hadn't exactly gone all that well..."

At the word _experienced,_ Hermione knows exactly where she fits into all this. 

It only takes a couple more minutes of comfort and light suggestion before he's sputtering in embarrassment at her proposition, of practicing with _her,_ for _experience._ But then she kisses him, and parts her mouth for his tongue and he is suddenly all too willing.

( _"Could we keep this to ourselves? I don't think Ron would react too well if he knew..."_ ).

Ron is somehow harder to get alone. 

Hermione creates opportunity after opportunity but somehow something or someone always gets in the way.

She is just thinking about giving up, deciding him a lost cause, when Harry gets detention for something she can't be bothered remembering and they're alone in the common room, late, sitting in front of a dying fire.

He doesn't make any effort to talk, so after a while of sitting in silence, she yawns, and stretches, and shifts to lean her head on his shoulder. For a moment, he tenses under her, and she worries it's too much, too fast, but then he relaxes again, and she chances a glance up at him.

"Uh, 'Mione? If you're tired maybe you should head to bed."

She frowns. "But I'm comfortable here."

He swallows, slow, as if realising for the first time how close their faces are to each other.

"It's- it's late we should probably both-"

She doesn't let him finish, choosing that moment to press her lips to his. The kiss is gentle, soft, and he reciprocates by turning to face her properly and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. 

It's a little awkward, the angle they're sitting at, and his kisses are clumsy, unrefined. She wonders about how she's kissed two Weasleys now, and how different those kisses had been.

( _"Don't tell Harry, okay? He'd probably freak."_ ).

*

Lavender sees Hermione everywhere. 

She'd seen her a lot as it was, being house mates and all, but then she really started seeing her everywhere she went, and never alone.

Lavender had caught Hermione and Harry snogging in an empty classroom first, not bothering to stick around long enough to see where that would lead to.

(She hadn't been surprised. Almost all of Hogwarts had figured they'd end up in each other's arms at some point).

Then she'd ventured into the library one day only to find George and Hermione sitting suspiciously close to each other, George's hand slowly slipping between her thighs.

(That one had her almost choking on her spit).

When she'd seen Ron, his face buried into her neck, hands glued to her behind, she decided she'd had just about enough.

(It stung, unlike the other ones. It had hurt, just a little).

But she could never seem to escape. Not even the quidditch pitch was safe. Hermione, who she knew had always hated flying, was sharing a broom with Oliver, several feet off the ground, kissing him and seemingly not at all worried about the potential of them falling and getting injured.

(She'd been tempted, _really_ tempted, to throw something at them and knock them off).

The biggest surprise of them all was when she had ventured out to the lake to try and forget Hermione all together, only to have walked in on her sat comfortably in Cedric Diggory's lap.

(Her jealousy and envy had surged then, strong. _Just what was so great about Hermione?_ ).

*

(Hermione wondered if Lavender would realise now, how it paid to be a smart girl).


End file.
